


Meaning of the Word

by vulpineRaconteur



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: M/M, background Sera/Inquisitor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-22
Updated: 2016-09-22
Packaged: 2018-08-16 17:54:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8111842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vulpineRaconteur/pseuds/vulpineRaconteur
Summary: On the first anniversary of that ill-considered night, Dorian discovers a word that Iron Bull has never said, and becomes very interested in why.





	

**Author's Note:**

> For Adoribull Minibang 2016!!!
> 
> This fic comes with a lovely illustration by serenity-fails, [check it out on tumblr](http://serenity-fails.tumblr.com/post/150781890491/more-adoribull-minibang-fun-this-ones-for)!
> 
> Shout out as always to my amazing beta sadiesaur, and to all my twitter followers who put up with me whining while I worked on this fic. You're all troopers.

Possible title: Crisis & Confession

 

9:42, Harvestmere

 

They would be stuck in the Exalted Plains for another week, at least. Inquisitor Juniper Trevelyan had come out here for a discreet meeting with an especially skittish Dalish clan. She was still in the process of returning to the Dalish any artifacts or information that the Inquisition had acquired in the preceding year and a half. This clan had only agreed to meet with Juniper because she was a former Circle mage, and because she denounced the Chantry every chance she had. They liked that. They liked even more the crates of books Juniper brought for them. The Inquisition’s soldiers, horses and carriages had been instructed to drop off the Inquisitor and her party and clear the area, then stay away and give the Dalish time to leave before returning.

Which was fine. The Inquisitor liked the Plains, and so did her companions. Dorian found the broad expanses of grass, golden brown now with the start of autumn, to be particularly beautiful. And this part of the Exalted Plains was far from any battlefields of the long-ended Orlesian civil war, free from the smoke and corpses that marked their previous excursions to the Plains. Overall, not a bad place to spend one’s thirty-first birthday. Dorian’s was a week away.

It was their second evening out, and Dorian was watching over the camp while the others looked for firewood. They had set up their tents a few hundred yards from the banks of a wide river, which Dorian was staring at, lost in thought, when Iron Bull returned.

“Hey, Big Guy,” Bull said after setting his finds in a neat pile on the ground.

“ _Hey_ to you, too,” Dorian replied, his pulse unusually jumpy. It had been an eventful morning, and Dorian had a lot to think about and, perhaps, a lot to say. He was still deciding.

Bull rummaged around in their tent for a moment before coming to sit beside Dorian with a self-satisfied expression on his face. With a flourish, Bull produced a large bottle. “Happy One Year of Fucking Each Other.”

A surprised laugh bubbled out of Dorian as he took the bottle and examined the label. It was a sparkling Antivan wine, not an especially fine vintage, but a decent one, and plenty of it. “An historic event, certainly. How did you pack this all the way out here without breaking it?”

“I didn’t. Bought it from that camp we stopped at earlier. It wasn’t cheap but, you know, we’ve got something to celebrate.” He waggled his eyebrows.

Dorian smirked. “I’m surprised they were willing to part with it. I can’t imagine it was an easy thing for a group of Tal-Vashoth to acquire.”

Bull shrugged. “Didn’t ask.” He was still smiling, but Dorian sensed an uneasiness he’d been carrying quietly for most of the day. That was only part of what had been occupying Dorian’s thoughts.

They had encountered the Tal-Vashoth earlier that day. Sera, ever sharp-eyed, spotted the stopped caravan first. Even from down the road, Dorian could see them, their horns bobbing around the camp. A dozen or so in total, eight adult qunari, three children, and one elf woman. They were hard to miss.

Juniper called out to them before they got too close, not wanting to catch them by surprise, and one of them hailed her in return. A male qunari, not as tall as the Iron Bull, though it was close, shook hands with the Inquisitor, his smile broad and friendly. He introduced himself as Karaas.

“Are you folks alright?” Juniper asked, leaning around the man to take a better look at his group. “Did your wagons break down?”

“Nah, we’re merchants!” he said. “Lots of people on this road these days, and people need gear and a hot meal.”

“People are stopping to buy a snack from a bunch of qunari?” Sera asked, incredulous. “They don’t just keep goin’ with a tighter grip on their purses?”

“Sera…” Dorian murmured. He hadn’t taken his eyes off Karaas. But the qunari laughed.

“That’s why Sivah makes all the transactions.” He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder at the elf woman, who waved at them. “People like her a lot better. But I saw that you had this guy with you,” he said, pointing at Bull now, “and I figured you wouldn’t be so shy. Oh, wait. Oh, shit.” He looked between Bull and Juniper, realization showing on his face. “Are you the fuckin’ Inquisition?”

“Just the most important part of it,” Sera said, leaning against Juniper.

“Inquisitor Trevelyan,” Juniper said, shaking his hand, “but Maker’s ass, please just call me Juniper.”

“Hey, whatever you say. Somebody saves the world as many times as you have, I’ll call ‘em whatever they want.” He slapped Juniper on the back, making her pitch forward. “You hungry? The stew’s gotta be ready by now.” He led her and Sera to his camp, Dorian and Bull a little behind them.

Dorian could feel amusement in the air around Bull. “Is there something you’d like to share?”

“Better watch yourself, Dorian, or Karass there will catch you drooling over him.”

Dorian felt heat rising in his cheeks and looked up at Bull, who had the most annoying look on his face. “You had better watch _your_ self, or I’ll let him.”

Bull laughed, head thrown back and a hand to his stomach. Dorian watched him and felt that now-familiar tenderness spread through him. The familiarity was peculiar enough. Even more so was how little panic it put him in to feel it. Months ago, the very idea of feeling attached to the Bull was met with a fundamental denial on his part. Now, his fear seemed so silly. What in the world had he ever been afraid of?

The Inquisitor’s introduction got a swell of greeting and applause from the camp. One of the women, just as tall as Karaas, hoisted Juniper up in the air and carried her around the camp. “The Inquisitor!” the woman shouted. Juniper pointed at Sera.

“And my girlfriend!”

“The Inquisitor’s girlfriend!” She bent and scooped up Sera, too, and Sera’s face lit up with joy. The children were all running around the three of them and laughing. Another adult approached with outstretched arms and an anxious look on his face.

“Oh, kadan,” he said, “don’t drop the Inquisitor!”

The woman sighed, said “ _Fiiiiine_ ” and set them down. The anxious fellow apologized to Juniper, but she laughed, and based on Sera’s still-breathless expression, there was nothing to forgive.

“Lunch ready?” Karaas said to Sivah, who was hovering quietly nearby.

“Just now, yes.” She had a Marcher accent, and spoke softly.

“Great!” Karaas looked back to Juniper and her party. “You’re gonna love this stuff. Have as much as you like. Least we could do for the fuckin’ Inquisition!” One of the others called out to Karaas and he left them with a hearty see-you-later.

The woman who’d picked up Juniper and Sera led them all to a ring of benches and they sat. She held the stew pot while Sivah filled their bowls. “Name’s Kasaanda!” she said, smiling broadly. “Sorry about earlier.”

“We’re not,” Juniper and Sera said in unison, which made Juniper blush and sent Sera into a guffaw.

Dorian and Sivah’s eyes met when she handed him his meal, but she looked away quickly, something sharp in her expression. He was used to elves in the south being cautious around him, the obvious Tevinter, and it (mostly) didn’t bother him anymore. He supposed he would have behaved much the same way in their position.

“Hey, Bull,” Juniper said, while Sivah filled a bowl for Kasaanda, “what was that word they used before? Kadan?”

Bull chewed a bit longer than necessary before he answered. He’d been unusually quiet, Dorian belatedly realized. “A friend,” he finally said, without elaboration.

Kasaanda laughed as she sat down next to Bull. “Kinda understating it, aren’t ya? Like okay, sure,” she said, gesturing at the man who’d told her to put Juniper and Sera down, “Aban there, and Asaara over there with the kids, they’re my friends, definitely, but they’re also, you know, more than that? Like…” She paused, searching for an explanation. “I’d fuckin’ die for them, you know? Whatever, they’re my kadans. That’s what that means. You see?” She looked at Juniper, who had an uncharacteristically sappy look on her face. She looked at Iron Bull.

“Are we your kadans, Bull?”

“Yeah, Bull,” Sera said, draping herself over Juniper’s back. “Are you my kadaaaaan?”

Bull laughed and held up his hands. “Hey, whoa, that’s a lotta pressure to put on a guy, Boss. Let’s take out a few more dragons before you ask me that.”

“You just want to fight more dragons,” Sera said shrewdly.

“Can’t get anything past you, can I?” He was jovial, but Dorian still noted a certain tension to his shoulders.

After a few minutes of companionable eating, Sera nudged her chin at Sivah, who was some distance away now washing cooking pots. “So what’s her deal, then?” she asked Kasaanda. “Was she a, whatchoo call it, a veddy—vimby—”

“Viddethari,” Bull said.

“Yeah, she was,” Kasaanda said. “She was a servant for some human noble somewhere before she joined the Qun. Did a lot of reading, I guess, studied with her old boss. I don’t know the whole story, I just know she’s fuckin’ brilliant. She’s teachin’ all the little ones to read.”

“Kasaanda?” Asaara called. “Could you round the kids up for lunch?”

“Sure thing, kadan.” She stood up and patted Juniper on the back. “Good work, Inquisitor. Uh, Juniper.” She left.

Sivah was eyeing the Inquisition party’s bowls, to see if they were finished eating. Sera nudged Dorian. “Don’t make her come get the bowls and things, bring ‘em over to her.”

“ _You_ could do it,” Dorian hissed, but he stood and gathered their dishes all the same. As he walked away from the group, Sera whispered loudly to his back.

“ _Wash ‘em, too!_ ”

Dorian smiled at Sivah as he approached her, and she smiled politely back. “Here you are,” she said, handing him a stiff brush and returning to her own work. They stood for a minute in silence before a female qunari approached with more dishes. Sivah lit up when she saw her. “Taashath,” she said. “Thank you very much.”

“Sure thing,” Taashath said, smiling just as warmly at Sivah. “Let me know if you need a hand, kadan.” She kissed Sivah on the temple and walked off, leaving Sivah with a goofy grin on her face.

“Well,” Dorian said, “that seems like a more intimate use of the word than what Kasaanda told us.”

“Oh, yes,” Sivah said, still smiling. Her chilly demeanor seemed melted somewhat by the kiss. “It’s an interesting word. Those three use it the way most do under the Qun.” She nodded at Kasaanda, Aban and Asaara, who were now having their own meal with the children. “Romantic love is discouraged, or at least not promoted, because a romantic couple doesn’t have a place in the structure of Qunari life. But people love their friends, so they have a word for it.”

Her academic tone made Dorian smile. Perhaps they had something in common after all. “But that isn’t how Taashath just used it for you, if I’m not mistaken.”

Sivah smiled down at the washing basin. “You are not mistaken.

“Tal-Vashoth have a lot of reasons to leave the Qun. Some of them do so because they have already found someone, possibly already become pregnant, and want to have a family separate from what they can have on Par Vollen. Some Tal-Vashoth come south and realize for the first time that being with someone is even an option. They fall in love. And Qunlat doesn’t have a word for that.”

She paused. “Do you know what else ‘kadan’ means?”

Dorian smirked as he picked up and started to clean one of the bowls Taashath had brought over. “My Qunlat is quite sparse, unfortunately.”

She tapped her sternum. “The center of the chest. Translated literally, it means ‘where the heart lies’. An anatomical term repurposed for love. The Qunari waste nothing, after all.”

Dorian considered this quietly for a moment. “Do you know, I’d never made that connection before, that they aren’t meant to love anyone at all, at least not romantically.” He’d meant “aren’t allowed to”, but realized after saying it, it sounded more like “aren’t destined to” or “aren’t able to”. He wasn’t sure which way she was going to take it.

“Maybe not,” she said. “But whether they’re on Par Vollen, Seheron, or free in the south, qunari fall in love. They just have to learn how on their own.”

Sivah was looking at Taashath with soft eyes. Then she nodded at Bull. “Has he been Tal-Vashoth long?” she asked quietly.

“Over a year, now.”

Sivah nodded, then smiled at Dorian. “Well, give him time.”

Dorian didn’t feel like pretending he had no idea what she meant.

Hours later, watching Bull pull the cork out of the bottle and fill two tin cups with wine, Dorian was still thinking about “kadan”, about Bull dodging Juniper’s question, about what it meant that he’d been with Bull a year and had never heard the word.

He was thinking about how thirty-one didn’t scare him the way thirty had.

 

 

9:41, Harvestmere

 

Thirty. Thirty.

Dorian Pavus was about to turn thirty years old.

_Thirty!_

He was standing in front of his full-length mirror in his chambers, nude, examining himself, and the number was running wild through his mind. In one week, this would be the body of a thirty-year-old. He turned his torso, twisted his hips to get a look at his glutes. He realized he was reflexively clenching to perk up his ass, and let the muscles relax. He felt a punch to the gut at the sad flop he saw. With a groan, he turned away from the mirror.

He knew he was being melodramatic. Between regular combat and traipsing around the south with the Inquisitor, he was in the best shape of his life. He hadn’t lost what he termed his “scholar’s stomach”, but his arms were more muscle than fat now. Still. Still. _Thirty._

He had that embarrassing thought again: _Would I fuck me?_ When he was twenty and foolish, would he have gone to a private spot with a thirty-year-old who looked like this? Things that were cute on a younger man were unforgivable on a _thirty-year-old_. Not that he wanted to sleep with twenty-year-olds (he found the idea somewhat unsettling), and not that he was sleeping with _anyone_ these days. He sighed and turned back to the mirror, hoping to catch his ass off guard, as if it was only pretending to be flabby to upset him.

His last week as a twenty-something, and he was wasting it in a castle in the middle of nowhere, _not_ getting told how fuckable he was by a handsome older man.

“Oh, to the Void with it,” he said, dressed before he could change his mind, and headed for the tavern. He could think of one man who might provide.

 

He attempted to convince himself he _wasn’t_ looking for the Iron Bull. He was looking for someone— _anyone_ —who might want to get him out of his clothes and lavish him with praise. The fact that Bull’s was the first face he saw, that Bull, who was at the bar alone, called him over, well, Dorian had no control over that, did he?

Dorian sat and ordered a bottle of wine before turning to Bull with his default charming grin. “Iron Bull.”

“Dorian,” Bull said, making his name a casual growl, “gracing the tavern with your presence. Did the stash in your room run out?”

“Mm,” Dorian said, ignoring the giddy rush of blood to his head. “I recalled faintly that your Chargers are out of Skyhold at the moment, and thought that would be a good opportunity to make an appearance without risking a shanking from Skinner.”

Bull chuckled, the sound rumbling around his chest. “She’ll be disappointed if she finds out I didn’t do it for her.”

“Well I don’t plan on telling her. It can be our secret.”

“Oh the magnanimity of House Pavus.”

Dorian let out a short burst of laughter. He was so used to Bull’s usual game of acting like a meathead that he always got a kick out of him using a word with more than three syllables. Cabot produced the bottle and a pewter goblet, which Dorian filled for himself. “Whatever do you mean? I’ve never heard of such a thing.” He smiled at Bull as he took his first sip, and looked away when Bull smirked back, because it made his insides squirm.

He let his gaze pass through the tavern. There were more than a few men who would have been suitable, more than a few who were already eyeing him with interest. Automatically he came up with excuses to reject them all; shallow, trivial, reasons to stay right where he was. Beside the Iron Bull.

He turned back to notice Bull looking him up and down, smirking, and saying “You came here to get laid, didn’t you?”

Dorian felt his cheeks color, and then he laughed, resignedly, pathetically. “Am I being that obvious?”

“Only to an ex-Ben-Hassrath. All the other guys in here just see someone important who’s a little too full of himself, but in a sexy kind of way. You could have your pick of them.”

“Oh,” Dorian said, catching up with the realization that Bull, for once, was not taking a chance to hit on him, and working to keep the disappointment from his face. “Well, obviously. They’ll be flocking to me at any moment. Until then, however….” He sipped his wine and looked out over the crowded room. “Keep me company?”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a grin creep its way across Iron Bull’s face. “Sure, why not? Only gonna be a few minutes anyway.”

Hours later, after, to Dorian’s _complete_ surprise, no one had approached the man who was drinking with an enormous qunari, after he had evaluated and discarded the few men who came close, after he had switched from wine to beer, Iron Bull invited him upstairs.

 

 

9:42, Harvestmere

 

The Iron Bull was really enjoying the time off. Their camp was a short distance from a hot spring where he could soak his aches when he needed. They had more than enough food to last the week, but the boss was having the time of her life foraging for weird bullshit to supplement their meals. There was enough cover from the trees they were camped in to calm down the voice in his head that was always screaming about potential ambushes. And it had only taken a little prodding on his part to make the trip line up with Dorian’s birthday, and their anniversary.

Things had been soured, but not too much, by the meeting with the Tal-Vashoth. He had a lot of shitty, fucked up stuff to deal with about Tal-Vashoth, still, and he knew it. He admitted it, at least to himself. That had been enough to try him, without all the “kadan” talk, too….

He could remember the night he’d first had to stop himself calling Dorian “kadan”. Sweaty, panting, hair stuck to his forehead, wrists stinging red, and _he’d_ asked if _Bull_ was alright. Showing that big heart, when he hadn’t had the wherewithal not to. How could Bull not start thinking of him that way?

“Bull?”

Dorian’s voice drew Bull’s attention away from his thoughts. “Huh?”

“They’re about to leave without us, darling, are you ready?”

Bull beamed. “Yep, let’s go.” _Darling._ Not unheard of from Dorian, but not common either. The trip was softening him, Bull figured. Good. He needed the break.

There was a creek in the woods near the camp, more secluded and slower-moving than the big river, where they thought they’d all take a dip. It was warm for autumn, and a cool and quiet creek sounded like just the thing. They got down to their smalls and splashed around while the sun was still high in the sky.

After a while, the cold started to get to Bull’s ankle, and he moved off to the top of a short rise nearby to dry off and warm up. _High ground, keep your eye on them, see anyone approaching from half a mile off_. He leaned forward onto his knee and watched over his friends, letting his thoughts run themselves ragged. He sighed. Even here, it was a fucking fight to clear his mind.

“Hey,” Juniper said, climbing up the rise to sit near him. She rubbed absent-mindedly at the palm of her left hand, where the mark she hadn’t used in half a year still lurked. An alarm went off in Bull’s mind, but he ignored it. He’d remember it, when it was time.

They stared down at their partners for a while in a happy silence, before Bull broke it.

“Boss.”

“Yeah, Bull?”

He pointed his chin at Sera. “You ever have somebody before Sera?”

“Nuh uh,” Juniper said. “Infatuations I guess, but I was never in a relationship. Why?”

Bull shifted. It was easy talking to the Boss. She was guileless, in a lot of ways. Not because she _couldn’t_ fuck with somebody’s head, but because she mostly just didn’t want to. He liked that. Made things simple. Still, this was hard.

His voice was quiet when he said “So you never—” he stumbled over the word, _fuck_ , this was hard, “—loved somebody before her?”

Juniper looked thoughtful, watching Sera and Dorian. “No, I never did.”

“But you had infatuations. You _liked_ other people.”

“Yeah?”

“How can you tell the difference?” She was watching him now, saying nothing, mulling him over. “How do you know you _love_ her?”

Juniper was still quiet, still thinking. “Because she’s…she’s what was missing. She’s the other part of me I didn’t know was gone.”

“And you knew that, right away.”

“No,” she said. “No, I didn’t know at first. Like I said, I didn’t know I was missing something. Someone. I didn’t know I needed her until I had her, and I learned what she gave me piece by piece.” She leaned forward and set her chin on her knees. “And now, we…I can’t imagine life without her.”

After a while in silence, she said “I’m gonna be nice and not ask you why you want to know.”

Bull laughed. “You’re a good friend, Boss.”

“Tadwiiiiiiiiinks!” Sera called from the river below. “C’moooooooooon!” Juniper laughed and stood up, dusting off the seat of her shorts. She shrugged at Bull.

“There she is,” she said simply, and made her way down the hill to Sera.

He watched her go, watched Sera yank her down under the water, both of them screeching with laughter. He watched Dorian double over laughing at them, his face wrinkled up with joy. Dorian noticed Bull watching them, and wiggled his fingers at him. Bull felt like something was tugging at his chest.

_The other part of me I didn’t know was gone._

The Iron Bull smiled to himself and softly said “So that’s what that is.”

 

 

9:41, Harvestmere

 

That night, the Chargers had been off on a mission without him, leaving Iron Bull alone with his thoughts, until Dorian walked into the tavern. As had been happening for a few weeks now, when Bull first caught sight of him, he felt something flutter in his chest. It didn’t matter where they were or what he was wearing, when Dorian was around, Bull felt an electric charge in his body. Infatuation. Attraction. He knew what those felt like, and that was what he felt now, yet….there was more. Some additional undercurrent that was all brand new. He was wary of it. It felt dangerous. But the Iron Bull loved danger.

As it happened, Dorian was outdoing himself that night. His outfit was perfectly balanced between finery and nonchalance. He didn’t look like he was _trying…_ but he looked pretty fucking good. Was he meeting someone? That didn’t make Bull happy. But after a quick scan of the tavern, Dorian’s eyes met his. Bull waved him over.

Dorian sat and ordered a bottle of wine, and he and Bull sniped at each other in their usual way. But something felt different to Bull, something in Dorian’s tone and body language. _He came out to get fucked,_ a voice in Bull’s head told him. _He came out to get fucked and went straight to you._ Iron Bull wanted to dismiss the thought, but all his instincts pointed in one direction: Dorian was flirting with him.

And not in his usual false disgust, catch-me-if-you-can, Dorian kind of flirting, either. He wanted Bull to know that he wanted to get fucked tonight.

Somehow, that didn’t make Bull happy, either. If Dorian was just looking for a sure thing…. For all of his repeated and varied invitations, the Iron Bull felt cold at the thought of Dorian coming to him this way. _Fuck,_ Bull thought, tucking the feeling away for later examination. But if Dorian just wanted to get somebody between his knees, Bull might as well be a pal.

“You came here to get laid, didn’t you?”

Dorian blushed, then laughed, a beautiful, clear thing. He rested his chin in one hand, leaning against the bar, looking up at Bull sheepishly. “Am I being that obvious?”

Bull felt his heartbeat in his throat, but he played it cool. “Only to an ex-Ben-Hassrath. All the other guys in here just see somebody important who’s a little too full of himself, but in a sexy kind of way.” Dorian’s smile widened, his blush deepened. Bull tried not to notice. “You could have your pick of them.”

It was the softest rejection Bull could manage, practically just a compliment. He saw it hit Dorian, though, flashes of confusion, disappointment, haughty apathy. “Oh, well,” Dorian said, flicking a hand through the air. “Obviously. They’ll be flocking to me at any moment.” He cast his eyes down at his wine, took it up, and looked out across the tavern. “Until then, however,” he muttered into his cup, “keep me company?”

Dorian’s eyes glittered as he looked back to Bull. A look of challenge, of determination. The Iron Bull’s pulse fluttered. “Sure,” he said, dimly aware of his smile. “Why not? Only gonna be a few minutes.”

 

²

 

 _He’d have a better shot if you weren’t around,_ a voice in Bull’s head told him. _He knows that, and he wants you around anyway._ For hours, men had come in and out of the bar, and more than a few of them had given Dorian appraising looks. But none of them approached, intimidated, of course, by the Iron Bull, who was not only a large, loud qunari, but the only man in the room Dorian had eyes for.

“How ‘bout him?” Bull asked, quietly indicating a burly Fereldan with a long red braid who had given Dorian an obvious once-over when he’d ordered his drink.

“Not my type,” Dorian said, stifling a burp. “Too…Fereldan.”

“Ah, c’mon,” Bull said gamely. “Wouldn’t mind getting inside that beard. And that braid’s got to have its uses.”

Dorian faked mild offence. “Why don’t _you_ sleep with him, then?”

“I’m not the one he’s got his eye on.”

“Well _maybe,_ ” Dorian started petulantly, “ _his_ eye isn’t the one I want on me.”

Bull blinked, and smiled, feeling oddly endeared by the statement. “Is that really your best move, Dorian? Try to get a guy into bed by bringing up his disfiguration?”

To his credit, Dorian stopped himself spitting out his mouthful of beer. “Well,” he observed mildly, “it is if it works.” He looked up at the Iron Bull, eyes sparkling with anticipation. “What are we waiting for, Bull?”

Bull said nothing, just tilted his head and looked back at Dorian. Waited.

“I don’t want to go to bed alone tonight,” Dorian blurted.

Iron Bull swept his arm around at the other patrons. “Take your pick.”

Dorian chewed the inside of his lip. “I don’t want them. I want you. Right now.”

The Iron Bull’s skin was humming with excitement and relief. He picked up what was left of the bottle of wine Dorian had started and stood up. He nodded towards the stairs. “Let’s go.”

 

9:42, Harvestmere

 

Dorian and Iron Bull were lying awake in their tent, staring at the canvas above them. The scouts would be here to pick them up tomorrow, which was also Dorian’s birthday. It had been a good week. There had been much drinking and laughing and kissing, and all the rest. Tonight there had been drinking and laughing, but only minimal kissing before they’d parted and gotten lost in thought. That was where they were, what they were doing, when the noises from the other tent started.

“Sera, come on,” Juniper whispered, with a giggle. “They’re gonna hear us.”

“Nah, they won’t. They’ve probably already fucked each other to sleep anyway. C’meeeeere, Tadwinks.” Sera made a growling noise and Juniper laughed in surprise. When the laughter muffled and took on a different tone, Bull sat up and looked at Dorian.

“Moonlight stroll, birthday boy?”

“Excellent idea.”

Dorian threw on a silk robe and Bull wriggled into a pair of shorts, and they picked their way down to the riverbank, eyes on the ground and wary of dangers for their feet. They sat on the grass, leaning against a boulder and looking out at the water. Bull put his arm over Dorian’s shoulders and let it hang.

“So,” Bull said, “how’s the big three one?”

Dorian chuckled. “Not nearly as panic-inducing as thirty was, thankfully. This trip helped.”

Bull beamed at him, like he could take credit for it somehow. “Thirty was bad, huh?”

“Oh, awful. But you were there. I thought you knew.”

Bull scratched his chin. “I knew you were ready to get ploughed, but I didn’t know your birthday was coming up. Took a while before I made that connection, honestly.”

“Well,” Dorian said, “you were a big help.”

He shifted in place, clutching to his courage while he had it. “And, Bull, you—You’re a big help now, too. You’re—”

Bull was looking at him, his expression open and patient.

“You’re the difference, Bull. Last year, all I could think about was losing my _allure_ , my ability to get any man I wanted, because it was such a significant part of who I was. Who I thought I was. Now, I…I hardly remember why all that was so important. That man, I’ve lost him, but I can’t imagine wanting to be him again. Because of you.”

Bull’s eyebrows turned up in the middle, like he was confused and surprised and about to cry all at once. He broke his smile to say “Dorian, you—” But, apparently unable to finish the sentence, Bull looked out over the water, smiling.

“I want to talk about,” Dorian said, “kadan.”

Dorian felt a charge move through Iron Bull at the word, and Bull not only looked back to him, but turned his whole body, gave Dorian his full attention.

“I don’t know what that word means to you, I don’t know what to make of it, honestly, but if it’s one you can’t use for me…it’s fine. Whatever I am to you, I’ll take it. Whatever we are, no matter what words we put to it, it’s what I want to be.”

Bull parted his lips to speak, smiling, said nothing, reached out to Dorian and held his face in his hand, and Dorian automatically let his lips part, Bull’s fingers in such close proximity. “If I can’t be—if it doesn’t mean—”

“Dorian,” Bull said, dragging a thumbpad across his cheek, “I wouldn’t worry about it.”

“Bull,” Dorian whispered, the Iron Bull’s bulk filling his vision now.

“I’ve called people kadan before. I’ve used it the way they want you to use it, for friends, for brothers-in-arms, but when I came south, everything about other people changed. It’s—” He paused, smirked. “It’s kind of not the point right now. The point is, that word died for me, for a while. But you brought it back, and it wasn’t the same word anymore.

“You gave that word a whole new life to me, Dorian.”

Dorian made a small, involuntary noise at the back of his throat. He put a hand on Bull’s wrist, drew his fingers up to Bull’s fingers.

Bull continued “But I wasn’t going to use it with you unless I _knew_ you felt something like the same way, because I know outside the Qun, words like that mean different things. They can manipulate, they can be weapons, they can blow shit apart. I wasn’t gonna let that happen to us.” He pulled Dorian closer until their foreheads knocked together. “Because even if you didn’t feel the same way, I wanted what we have for as long as we could have it. ‘Cause it’s enough.”

“It’s more,” Dorian breathed.

“Yeah, kadan, it is.”

Dorian kissed him. Dorian twisted his face to the side and caught Bull’s mouth on his, the soft, broad lips on his, and Bull drew his fingers through Dorian’s hair. Dorian put his arms around Bull’s neck, pulled him down, bringing force to the places where they met. Bull hummed and grabbed Dorian at the hips, lifted him onto his lap and pulled him in. He reached up under Dorian’s robe and dragged his hands up over Dorian’s ass and to his back, holding him in place. It made Dorian shiver.

“Oh, amatus,” Dorian said, and stopped himself short.

Bull grinned with half his mouth. “Amatus, huh?”

“I assume,” Dorian breathed, face flushed, “that they taught you enough Tevene to know that one?”

“Yeah,” Bull said softly, pressing his nose to Dorian’s neck. “Yeah, they did, kadan.”


End file.
